Harry Potter and Death's Second Chance
by FrankDank
Summary: Harry lunges into the veil after Sirius, intending to save him. What will he do when instead of his beloved god father, he finds himself speaking to Death? Horcrux hunting, Grey! Harry, no pairings yet.
1. Chapter 1

Harry saw the stunning spell leave Bellatrix's wand and strike Sirius in the chest. The man's barking laughter abruptly cut off, and Harry screamed in horror as he saw his beloved god father topple backwards into the ominous veil.

"Sirius, no!" He yelled, and ran towards the deathly arch. He felt a strong pair of arms wrap around him, holding him back. He elbowed the man- Remus- in the nose and ran up the stairs. He heard Bellatrix's cackles and the Order member's worried yells before he flung himself through the veil.

X-X-X-X

It was cold. And very dark. Harry could barely see his hands in front of his face. "Sirius?" He called out, searching the blackness around him for some sign of life. Nothing, just his own heavy breathing, answered back. He was alone, he didn't need to see to be able to know that.

He sighed, and pocketed his wand. He felt the heavy weight of the prophecy in his pocket, and he felt bitterness rise up within him. If he's have known Sirius was okay none of that would've happened. If he'd used the bloody mirror his god father had given him, he'd still be okay. He didn't even know if he was alive anymore, for all he knew he could be dead.

"You're not." A voice answered from behind him. H couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, the voice seemed to be a perfect blend of the two. Harry whipped around, and saw nothing but blackness. "You won't be able to see me, mortals can't." The voice said, and chuckled.

"Wh-who are you? Where's Sirius?" Harry asked, voice faltering.

The voice laughed and boomed, "I am Death! All powerful and all knowing!" Harry swallowed, and clenched his hand, retrieving his wand. "That won't do you any good, you can't fight me." Death said, suddenly serious.

Harry frowned, but kept his hold on his wand. "Where's Sirius? Are you going to kill me?" He asked, swallowing thickly. He didn't _want_ to die, but he supposed it was his fault for jumping into the veil after his god father.

"Sirius Black has passed on to the other side, and no, I'm not going to kill you." The voice said. It didn't sound sad, or even sympathetic towards the fact that Sirius was gone. Harry figured it wouldn't, it was Death after all.

"Why am I still here then?" Harry asked, suddenly angry. He didn't see the point of him being stuck in this place. What was it, limbo? Harry didn't know, he just wanted to leave. "Why can't you just send me back if you're not going to kill me?"  
Death chuckled again, but this time it came out menacing. "Have some respect, I could leave you here for an eternity." Harry froze, and furrowed his brows. "I require a soul to take on to the other side. Luckily for you, you appear to have a fragment of another's soul latching pitifully onto your own. It is a horcrux, a silly attempt at cheating me."

Harry shudder at the low tone Death grumbled in. "What's a horcrux?" He asked shakily. "You said it's a soul, who's soul?" He wasn't sure what having another soul latching onto his own implied, but he didn't like the sound of it.

"A wizard can split their soul and bind it to an object, and that shard can stop them from moving on to the Afterlife when they die. A wizard in your world, Tom Riddle, appears to have left a shard in you. A foolish wizard he is, no one can truly escape dying." The voice seethed. "In your situation, I would normally take your soul and lead you into the Afterlife, and our business would be done. However, I can only take one soul from each body, which means I would be left giving your mortal shell to this slight against me. No, I'd much rather take the fragment."

Harry was confused. "What does this mean for me? Can you send me back?"

Death was quiet for a moment. "No, I'm unable to send you back to your own world. It seems fate had not wanted you to follow your beloved Sirius into the veil, and by doing so you have disrupted that world's destiny."

"What? Fate, destiny, what do you mean? Are there other worlds?" Harry asked. His head was throbbing with the information he was receiving. So he couldn't return to the people he loved, Sirius was gone forever, and he had a piece of Voldemort inside of him. That must be why the blasted Dark Lord never seemed to die, Harry realized, he had a horcrux that prevented it. "What are you going to do with me once you take his soul?"

"Fragment. It is only a fragment. The filthy little thing has been leeching off your magic for years. It's a wonder you have any at all." Death muttered. He let out an amused noise. "Hmm. I can not send you into _that_ world, but surely another? Yes, that would do nicely I think." Harry raised a brow and shuddered. That horcrux, that thing, had been stealing his magic. It made him feel sick.

"Well, if you took it, would I be alright? My magic, I mean?" Harry asked.

"Yes, your stolen magic would possibly be returned. But that's all hypothetical, human horcruxes have never existed before. Your case is definitely a peculiar one." Death mused. Death suddenly went quiet.

"Alright, I will make a deal with you, Harry Potter. I will send you to a world where your Sirius is still alive, and in return you will round up the shattered soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Do you agree?" Death said suddenly, making Harry jump.

Harry shifted. "Well, I don't really have a choice, do I? If it means I can see Sirius again, yeah. I'll do it." He felt Death grow happy around him.

"Good, that's very good. But, I can't send you looking like that, Can I? No, no, that simply won't do." Suddenly Harry's face felt as if it were melting. He dropped to his knees and screamed in agony. His body burned as it slowly shrunk, and he felt an extreme pain in his face. The flesh was shifting, and his bones felt like they were breaking. It suddenly stopped, and stroked his face slowly, wincing at the contact. Where he expected to feel blood and bone, he felt smooth skin. He reached up to his forehead and felt nothing. Death had taken his scar. "Oh yes, the irony is certainly worth the pain!" Death laughed and Harry frowned in confusion.

"Well Mr. Potter, I believe it is done!" Death said happily, and Harry winced as the blackness suddenly began growing bright at a maddening rate. "You have six shards to find, I wish you luck." Death added before he felt himself fly out of the cold veil into the amphitheater.


	2. Chapter 2

Pain. All Harry felt was pain. It was as if his entire body had been dunked in icy water, his nerves were screaming at him. He blearily opened his eyes, and saw he was still in the dark amphitheater, but it was empty. It showed no marks of the battle he'd just witnessed. He slowly stood, and felt around his pockets. When he gripped the familiar handle of his wand he felt a surge of warmth flutter through his fingertips. He checked his other pocket and felt the smooth fabric of his invisibility cloak, neatly folded. His wand and cloak had survived the journey, but the prophecy hadn't.

All that remained of the sphere was shards of glass and dust, and he hurriedly shook it off of the silvery cloak. He quickly wrapped it around himself, and watched as two wizards approached the Veil from one of the hallways.

"You sure?" The taller of the two questioned in a deep, mellow tone. He was a large man, with a thick build and dark curly hair. He looked at the veil again and grumbled, "It doesn't _look_ any different."

"Certainly!" The other affirmed. He was thinner than the first man, and his hair was a bright blond that seemed out of place in the dim room. He held up his wand, and gestured to the orange glow that emitted from the tip. "Registered activity!" His voice was slightly higher pitched, and he seemed to be excited about something.

The tall wizard examined the wand, and then waved his own. After a moment, his turned grey. "Whatever happened, the signature is fading!" he cursed. He spun around and Harry was suddenly glad for his cloak, the man was _angry_. His dark eyes surveyed the room, darting around.

The blonde turned around too, and frowned. "Should I call Croaker?" he mumbled, brows furrowing.

The other man glared at him and nodded stiffly, before striding off quickly. "Damn it! It's gonna be my ass on the line if whatever came out escapes!" He fumed. He roughly turned and stomped away.

The blond watched the taller man curse his way out of the room and shook his head. "That temper's gonna be the end of you, Rookwood!" He called out, the man responding with more curses. Harry's eyes widened, and quietly made his way towards the exit. The blonde man was occupied with a silvery patronus, and didn't hear his escape.

X-X-X-X

After eventually finding his way out of the Department of Mysteries, Harry finally stepped into the lift. He pulled his cloak off and sighed, hands shaking. He had passed the tank full of brains and had heard an eerie singing emitting from one of the large tubs. He jumped when he heard the lift's voice chime "Main Level, Ministry of Magic." And he walked out the small elevator.

It was crowded as ever, but people seemed less rushed than usual. Harry picked up a newspaper, and gawked at the date- June 14, 1991. The year Hagrid had rescued him from the Dursleys, his first year at Hogwarts. He knew Death had changed his appearance somewhat, but now his smaller stature made sense. He was 10!

He slowly made his way to the floo network, thinking of somewhere to go. His aunt's home was out of the equation- there was no way in hell he'd be stuck there _again_. The Weasley's didn't even know he existed, so he couldn't show up there.

The only places he could think of were Hogwarts and Grimmauld place, and he quickly decided on the latter. While Hogwarts was his home, he had nothing to tell to Dumbledore to explain his sudden appearance. He sighed heavily, and stepped into the emerald flames, calling out, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place!"

He closed his eyes as he spun through the fireplace, before roughly landing on a filthy carpet. It was covered in dust and ash, and smelled like something rotten. He hurriedly stood up, trying not to gag at the _crunch_ he felt under his hand. He looked at his palm and shuddered at the squished beetle, before roughly rubbing his hand against the equally filthy couch. His hand came away grey with dust and grime, and he sighed in disgust.

He knew Mrs. Weasley had spruced up the house before she put them all to work cleaning, but had it really been this bad? He looked around the dank room, and noticed the moldy curtains (most likely filled with doxies like his world's had been) and carefully pulled them apart, bathing the dark sitting room with light.

He had just removed his wand when he heard a loud _crack_! He spun around and locked eyes with Kreature. The drooping yellow eyes were filled with distrust and anger, and he croaked in his scratchy baritone, "What is you doing in Mistresses' home? Stealing? Is yous a theif?"

The elf was creeping closer and Harry realized he was holding a heavy cast-iron skillet. "N-no, I'm not a thief! I just need somewhere to stay!" He stammered, eyeing the elf's weapon.

"Yous should not be here!" He bellowed, and swiped dangerously close with the skillet. Harry leapt back, dropping his wand, and found himself in between a dusty trinket cabinet and a murderous house elf. Harry felt behind him and opened the cabinet, reaching around for anything he could use to defend himself.

Harry's fingers tightened around a hilt, and he yanked out his would-be weapon. Harry stared triumphantly at Kreature, before realizing he was holding a hairpin. Harry suddenly felt a sharp pain flash through his hand, and the pin began lighting up a dark wine color, before everything stopped.

The elf seemed confused, and muttered to himself, "Thief should've died from Black family wards, why is he still bothering Kreature?" He slowly lowered the heavy pan and looked at Harry. "Who is you?" he asked slowly, staring at the young boy.

"A friend," Harry said, placing the pin back on the shelf. He wasn't exactly sure what had just occurred, but at least the small elf wasn't trying to bash his head in with cooking ware. He slowly reached down and retrieved his wand, keeping a close eye on the skillet. "I was telling the truth- I just need somewhere to stay. Please, Kreature, I'm not stealing." Harry said sincerely.

The elf contemplated his words for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Mistresses' house recognizes you, you's been here before!" He accused, pointing a grey finger at him.

Harry froze. What could he do? If he told the elf, he could run and tell whoever he wanted. He hadn't forgotten that Kreature was the cause of his Godfather's demise. If the elf hadn't ran off to the Death Eaters he never would've been in this situation. But he had no plausible explanation for the house recognizing him.

Then it stuck him- Sirius was his godfather, and he'd never had any children. That would make Harry his heir, wouldn't it? He wasn't completely sure, but as far as he knew there couldn't be any other reason for the house to recognize him. He stared at the elf, and said quietly, "Kreature, what I tell you now, you can't repeat it to _anyone_ else, okay? This is an order."

The wrinkled elf looked mad for a moment, and went to protest, but found he couldn't. The elf mouthed words, but no sound came out. Shock flitted over the house elf's face, before his features settled into a deep scowl. "Kreature promises to keep Thief's secrets," he mumbled bitterly. Harry smiled, and sighed in relief.

"Okay. Well, I'm technically Sirius's heir, but I'm not from here." Harry explained honestly. It was the truth- kind of, at least. "I'm here to get him out of Azkaban."

The elf eyed him suspiciously, before muttering, "Mistress never liked _that_ one, ungrateful child. Yous is Master Sirius' bastard?"

Harry was taken back, and stared at the creature in shock. His bastard? That could actually work. Harry nodded, beaming at the elf. "Yes, actually!" he exclaimed excitedly, walking around the room. "My, er, mother died. So Sirius is the only person I've got left." He said more to himself than the house elf.

He could see it all working out, he go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and plead his case. Claim his mother died, leaving him alone without anyone to take care of him. It was the perfect plan! He would head back to the ministry in the morning, he already decided it. Now all he needed was to shower and eat dinner, and he could rest for the rest of the day.

The elf was staring at him as he paced, and Harry spun towards him. "Kreature, I need to shower, and some clothes. Could you find anything for me?"

The house elf nodded slowly and disappeared, mumbling about ' _filthy bastard heirs soiling mistresses' good home'_. Harry could care less, and he hummed contentedly as he made his way towards the restroom, only to stop abruptly.

If he thought the living area was filthy, this was ten times as dirty, and he debated on calling Kreature before deciding against it. He'd rather not have the elf mad at him, and figure it'd be better to give him one task at a time. He brandished his wand at the filthy faucet and began casting as many cleaning charms as he knew. The bathroom had dirt and grime caked into the grout, and the faucets were surrounded by a green ring.

Harry's spells scrubbed and scrubbed at the filth, until the floor was almost perfectly clean (not up to Mrs. Weasley's cleaning but no one was better than her at such charms.) When he finally began cleaning the mirror, he was froze in horror.

A buy at around his age stared back at him with unmistakable featured. High cheekbones, a pointed chin, and full lips. He stared at his new face in revulsion- he was the spitting image of Tom Riddle, minus the eyes. Those, thankfully, were his own. He stared at his reflection for a while, pinching and prodding his now hated features.

Death was cruel, he decided. It had almost seemed humored by his change in appearance before it sent Harry into this world. He remembered the haunting laugh, followed by those terrible words, "Oh yes, the irony is _certainly_ worth the pain!" and his eyes widened before he retched into the sink.

He looked like Voldemort. He looked like the man who had murdered his parents, the man who caused him such pain his entire life. Harry vowed to fix his face the first opportunity he got, he refused to walk around looking like that _monster_. He shuddered, and ruffled his hair, trying to muss the near-perfect features of his most hated enemy. He hated how his own face mocked him merely by existing, hated how Death saw this as a joke. . .

Harry was knocked out of his musings when Kreature reappeared with clothes. He dropped them on the floor and disappeared before Harry could even let out a thanks. Harry placed the folded pajamas on the vanity, and numbly turned on the shower. He had _a lot_ to think about.

X-X-X-X

 _ **AN: So I don't really like how this story was going, so i decided to start over completely. This chapter I'm a little iffy about, but nothing too bad. Today I sat down and planned everything out up until book 3, so I think I'll be good on plot for a bit. Yesterday I was in a car accident, and that honestly scared the hell out of me, so I figured theres no more reason to procrastinate fixing this fic. I'll try to upload more often. Please let me know if you like the story, your reviews make me so happy! :D**_


	3. Hello Everyone!

Update: this story has not been abandoned! My life has quite literally gone to shit but I'll be updating soon!


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